Transgender |
Bobbi snorts. "It's Genderella. Don't you recognize her?" I zero in on the Jessica Rabbit look-alike. At nearly seven feet tall she easily towers above the other gyrls. Her seven inch spike heels and the teased and tortured platinum blonde hair add at least another foot. The black silk and sequin dress catches the light from the chandelier under which she has carefully positioned herself. Like a shimmering magnet, she stands amid the now drab-looking and mundane crowd of T gyrls who are clearly basking in her glow. "That's the one with the web site," I whisper. "With all of the photos?" "That's her; the one with the nasty photos," Bobbi whispers back. "The ones YOU like." I shake my head. "I should never tell you anything." She smiles. "But you always tell me everything," she says. I sigh. "So," she asks. "What do you think?" I can't answer...at least not as quickly as I'd like. "She raises a lot of issues for me," I say at last. "I definitely realize that," she says. "So how about if I play therapist here...while we watch the cartoon perform." Genderella is moving across the lobby now, her entourage following her like obedient fish in the wake of some magnificent shark. A few have their cameras out; the perverse papparazzi chase the Princess, some even posing with her. "Are you jealous?" I ask Bobbi smiles. "Of course...a part of me, at least. It's a kind of glamour, you know. I grew up idolizing movie queens...Marylyn Monroe, Diana Dors, Jayne Mansfield...the ones who were larger than life. But I know what you're asking and No, I'm not jealous enough to pursue that style myself." Genderella sits on one of the benches now. Even so, her hair still rises above the others. "It's sexual," she says. "Isn't it." "You know the answer to that," I say with some hesitation. "But that's where I have a problem with it. Gender identity isn't just associated with the sexual side of being female; that's not complete. You associate with more than just that aspect of it...don't you?" Bobbi doesn't answer. She knows what I know. "Remember?" I ask. "When we were younger? We thought it was sexual because we were sexual, but as time went on and we came out we realized that wasn't really what drove it." "I remember," Bobbi says. "Very well. But in all honesty, you know that the sexual side never went away; it just took its place where it belonged." I'm about to add something, but Genderella is standing again. She's laughing and the crowd is laughing with her. "Do you suppose," I ask, "that some of them hope it might rub off?" "Don't know," Bobbi says, heading back down the stairs. "But what's it matter?" I shrug and follow along and with her. "No matter, really." Bobbi stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns, her back to the queen, her eyes on the rest of the attendees. We can be what we want to be," she says. "And what we choose to be. Nasty or nice. Lavish or modest. This is what freedom is all about." "Talking to yourself again?" Ericka asks from behind.
"Out," Ericka says, "and quite loud. But that's OK. The sentiment's a good one. And appropriate for the scene." "You noticed?" Bobbi asks. Ericka raises her eyebrows. "Impossible not to," she says. "It's fun...kinda , but it's certainly not me. I don't want to be noticed. When Ericka goes out she's happiest when no one takes a second look. I'm perfectly happy being an average looking girl." "But you're definitely not average," I say. Ericka looks around. "Who was that?" Bobbi laughs. "George," she says. "You know how he gets sometimes. "Go away, George." Ericka laughs too. "Yeah," she says. "Go away, George." And I have to smile too. "There are times," I whisper softly to Bobbi, "when I would be more than happy to do that," closing my eyes and wondering what it would be like to be Genderella for a day. "And this is certainly one of them." |
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